


Faint Light of Mourning

by ikuzonos



Category: Dangan Ronpa, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Virtual Reality, M/M, NDRV3 Spoilers, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Ouma Kokichi, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 07:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12008043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikuzonos/pseuds/ikuzonos
Summary: [Major Endgame NDRV3 Spoilers]Saihara receives an invitation to a party for Ouma.





	Faint Light of Mourning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [idaate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/idaate/gifts).



> HELLO KIKI!!! I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE THIS!!!

It’s half past three in the morning when Saihara’s phone rings.

He had only just been toying with the idea of actually falling asleep, so it’s not an inconvenience, really. It just leaves him wondering who on earth decided to phone him at this hour. Maybe Harukawa? He can’t remember what she looks like very well, but the memory of her being an insomniac filters through his brain.

Although, that might have been due to the circumstances revolving around the fallout of Team _Dangan Ronpa’s_ virtual reality simulation. There were numerous nights where he met Harukawa (and several of the others too) while wandering around the hallways in a thin hospital gown.

The phone is on its last ring. Saihara lunges his arm forwards and snatches it off of his bedside table, answering it without looking at the Caller ID.

“Hello?” God, his voice sounds terrible. He must be dehydrated again. Saihara glances over to his bedside table. On it stands a mason jar that’s half filled with water.

“Saihara-k… Saihara?” asks a voice that he knows he’s heard before, “Sorry, I probably woke you, didn’t I?”

Saihara swallows the water and wipes his mouth on his sleeve, “N-No, you really didn’t. That’s me.” He places the mason jar back on the table, nudging it against the childish Disney lamp that he doesn’t have the heart to swap out.

“It’s Amami. Er, Rantarou Amami. I think, anyways,” he says, “You know what, this was a terrible idea. I shouldn’t have buzzed at this time.”

Saihara rubs his eyes, “It’s fine, Amami. What do you need?”

The question ‘and how did you get my phone number?’ remains on his tongue, unsaid amongst the influx of emotions coursing through him. Only Harukawa, Yumeno, and Tenko received his number from the pre-programmed phone that Team _Dangan Ronpa_ had issued to everyone after the fact. He had offered his number to everyone else too (except Shirogane, maybe. He doesn’t remember.) and had been refused by the rest of them, Amami included.

Amami says, “Okay, well, as you probably know- No that’s a bad way to put it. You know what month it is. Maybe? I don’t know what month it is half the time. Hell, I can’t- Angie! You do this!”

Saihara moves his phone away from his face and looks at the screen for a moment.

Another voice floats into range of the microphone on Amami’s end, which Saihara recognizes instantly as Angie’s, “What’s wrong, Rantarou? You look stressed! Do you need a _bop_ on the head?”

Amami sounds exasperated, “No, just… You talk to Saihara! I don’t know how to do this.”

“But it was Rantarou’s idea, wasn’t it?” Angie replies, “So shouldn’t he take initiative and do the talkity talk? Yeah! He should! Angie wants to go have her beauty sleep, anyways.”

“This was _your_ idea!” Amami retorts, “And I know that you’re just going to eat toothpaste or something if I let you off the hook. Just talk to him!”

Saihara briefly considers hanging up on them.

Angie mutters something in a language Saihara doesn’t speak, then says into the phone, “Hello, Shuuichi! It’s been a real long time since Angie spoke to you!”

“Who’s fault is that?” Saihara grumbles, before realizing he spoke out loud. He quickly amends, “What do you need, Angie?”

Angie chirps, “As Rantarou took forever to say… It’s June! June’s an interesting month, in Angie’s opinion. It’s not her favourite month, but it’s not her least favourite either. It’s right in the middle, and while Angie likes the month, she can’t bring herself to like it more than-”

“Angie?” Saihara prompts, “What’s your point?”

“Right, right,” Angie says, “We’re having a party here next week! And we wanted to know if Shuuichi would come. Kokichi’s walking again, so we wanted to celebrate! Plus, their birthday is coming up too.”

Saihara pauses, “You… want me there?”

Angie giggles, “Yep, yep! Shuuichi’s still sharp! It’s a very exclusive event too! So Shuuichi is very lucky to be on the invite list.”

“A-Ah,” Saihara starts, “It’s very nice of you to invite me?”

Angie says, “Soooooooo is Shuuichi coming? Kokichi requested you specifically!”

Saihara’s heart catches in his throat. Before he can make an impulsive decision, he says, “Well… Could I call back in the morning with an answer? I need time to think things through, and maybe talk to my housemates.”

Angie pauses, “Who are Shuuichi’s housemates again?”

“...Momota and Akamatsu.”

When all the participants of the final _Dangan Ronpa_ season were all conscious and vaguely functional, and the court cases had been dropped, all of them were forced to draw lots that would decide who among the cast they would live with.

Saihara had been nervous about this prospect, and while Kaito was welcome, he was uncertain about Kaede. In fact, he hard hardly spoken to her since she woke up again.

Angie hums, “Uh… well, Shuuichi shouldn’t do that. Kaede isn’t invited, and while Kaito is, he can’t keep a secret. Angie is going to call him closer to the actual date.”

Saihara takes a deep breath. This is too much information to receive at this hour. He mumbles, “O-Okay. But I still need time to think. Can I call you back in the afternoon?”

“Sure, sure!” Angie says, “We’d all really love to have you!”

Saihara smiles weakly, despite the fact that she can't see it, “Great. Bye for now, Angie.”

“Byeonara!”

She hangs up and Saihara tosses his phone across his bed. It lands in between the folds on his quilt and vanishes amongst the plush.

Not like it matters. He wants to sleep now, anyways.

-

Saihara treks down the stairs at thirteen minutes after nine in the morning, a tote bag containing several not quite overdue library books slung over his shoulder. He’s still reeling from the phone call - which his calling history proves that, no, it was not a dream - and it just exhausted overall.

But aren’t all of them?

He finds Kaito in the kitchen, exactly where he’d hoped. The purple haired man is currently chugging back coffee at the speed of light. He probably would have drunk it straight from the pot if Saihara didn’t also need the caffeine to function.

“Hi, Momota,” Saihara says as he pulls his travel mug out of the cupboard and sets it on the counter, “Do you have enough spare change for bus fare?”

Kaito stops sucking back coffee and takes a couple deep breaths, “Uh, yeah? Why do you ask, though? And what’s with the fucking bag? It’s ugly.”

“It was cheap,” Saihara replies, “And because I figured Akamatsu probably already took the car for the day again.”

Kaito says, “She’s actually still upstairs sleeping, so the car’s yours if you want. The keys are right by the orb of gods.”

He points to the two thousand yen plasma globe that Saihara had bought him for his birthday last year.

Saihara fills his travel mug up with coffee, “I can’t drive, remember?”

Kaito smacks his knee, “Right, right! You said something about it, uh… your culture meant you couldn’t drive? Or something.”

Saihara stirs six sugar cubes into his coffee without looking up.

“Well, whatever,” Kaito says, setting his Naruto themed mug down, “I can drive you! Where are you going?”

“You don’t have your license either!” Saihara retorts, “Besides, if you did that, Akamatsu would blow up your phone asking why you took the car. Bus fare is all I need, really.”

Kaito rolls his eyes, “Akamatsu needs to learn to suck it up.” Still, he digs into his pocket and produces change for Saihara.

Saihara smiles weakly, “Thanks. I’ll see you later today. I don’t know when.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kaito waves him off, “Get out of here, Ebony Darkness.”

Saihara blinks, “Whom?”

“Nevermind. It’s not important,” Kaito mumbles.

Saihara shrugs, then offers him a smile before turning around and leaving the tiny house.

-

Saihara likes the peace of the library. There’s no midnight shouting matches, no scent of cigars and alcohol, only the cold covers of books and a various assortment of armchairs.

He sits in a secluded corner of the building for hours, turning the sharp pages of books he’s read a hundred times before. There’s comfort in their familiarity, especially as there’s not a lot he’s familiar with anymore.

Despite being a survivor, his memory is still hazy. His memories of the game mix into real life, and he can’t count the amount of times where he’s woken from a cold sweat, certain that Kaede was swinging from a noose in her bedroom.

Of course, if he really wanted to remember, there’s the pile of DVDs that Team _Dangan Ronpa_ gave each them after their release. Saihara’s own stack sits dusty and untouched in the back of his closet. He knows Kaede and Kaito have watched their videos, multiple times each. The ‘iconic’ theme song won’t leave his head.

Saihara closes his book on his hand. This isn’t what he wanted. This isn’t why he forced himself to leave the house after days of hiding in his room.

The library is the only place he goes, except the occasional trip to the corner store at four in the morning, and that’s only when he feels so horrible that he doesn’t care who sees him.

Suddenly, the library is too loud. Saihara gets to his feet and leaves without checking out any new books.

When he gets back home, it’s dark and the car is gone. Kaito’s sitting on the couch watching some science fiction show about space with mangled subtitles. It’s just like any other night. And Saihara hates that.

Once he’s alone in his room again, he fishes his phone out of his now empty tote bag and dials his most recent received call.

“Hello?” Amami is the one to pick up, “Saihara? I wasn’t expecting you to call back, not gonna lie.”

Saihara shifts on his feet, “A-Ah. Well, I wanted to call and say that I made my decision. I’ll go to the party.”

Amami takes a moment to respond, “What? Oh! I mean, that’s great! Ouma will be overjoyed. We can't wait to see you! I'll text you the details of the thing, okay?”

“S-Sure,” Saihara says, “Thanks for inviting me.”

Amami pauses again, “U-Uh, you're welcome. I'm gonna hang up now, if that's chill with you.”

Saihara blinks, “Okay?”

“Okay! Bye!” There's a click, a beep, and then silence.

Saihara slumps. He isn't sure why he decided to accept the offer. He's tired of the same routine, sure, but he's also scared of making a change like this. He doesn't have a clue who will be there, and part of him doesn't want to find out.

But he has to, now. It's too late to revise this choice.

Footsteps from the hallway cause Saihara’s eyes to flicker towards his closed door. They're too light to be Kaito’s, so Kaede must be home.

According to his watch, it's not quite eleven. She's earlier than usual, then. Not that he cares. Not anymore.

Saihara lies down and rolls onto his side, facing the far wall. His phone buzzes in his hand, likely Amami’s promised text.

He doesn't move his hand to check, only closes his weary eyes, and for the first time in months, really sleeps.

-

It's blazing hot on the day of the party. It hits Saihara like a brick as he steps off of the bus, Kaito close behind. He squints down at his phone, trying to see the directions Amami sent.

Assuming he’s reading them right, they’re only about a ten minute walk. That’s good, considering how abysmally hot it is.

He follows the directions robotically, while Kaito hangs behind him and grumbles the whole time. It isn’t too hard to find their house- it’s the only one in the area with streamers on the porch.

“Thank fucking god,” Kaito mutters, stumbling forwards, “I thought we were going to die out here.”

Saihara rolls his eyes as the climbs up the porch. The bag containing the small gift he bought the other day shifts in his arms as he reaches for the doorbell.

Angie answers the door, beaming at the sight of them, “Aaaa! Angie wasn’t sure if you’d make it! Thanks so much for being here!”

Saihara smiles back, surprisingly. He supposes that Angie has that kind of air around her that makes it impossible to be sad, even now.

He steps into the luckily air conditioned house, and holds out the gift to Angie, “Should I put this anywhere? It’s just something small as a thanks.”

“Angie can take it!” She chirps, taking the bag out of his arms.

Kaito raises his hand, “Hey… if it’s not too much trouble… I’m like, dying of heatstroke, so could I get some water? Or vodka. Vodka works too.”

Angie nods, “Of course! Anything for a beloved guest. Come into the main room while you wait, a few of the others are already here!”

She skips off, and Saihara turns to Kaito. They look at each other for a moment, then shrug and enter the room where the others are seated.

Amami is leaning against the wall by a closed off fireplace, while Kirumi and Shinguuji are seated on a nearby sofa, looking a little uncomfortable.

And Kokichi Ouma, the person of the hour themself, is standing with their back turned. Saihara falters for a moment. They’re no taller, whether that’s natural or because of the slouch they formed while unable to walk. Their hair is a stark white, and fluffy looking. Saihara wonders what it would be like to run his hands through it.

Wait, _what?_

Amami sees the two of them standing there and claps his hands, “H-Hey! You made it, great. Now we just have to see if Hoshi and Kiibo will show.”

Ouma spins around. They sees Kaito first and cracks a smile, until their gaze drifts to Saihara, and they falter. Their mouth falls open and they look at Saihara like he’s a ghost.

“What are you doing here?” they croak, their voice raw and wounded.

Saihara closes his fist, “I… You invited me to your party?”

Ouma looks over their shoulder at Amami, who’s now sweating bullets, “Amami-kun! I-I told you… I didn’t want to invite him!”

“What?!” Saihara exclaims. Kaito stumbles. Tears are falling from Ouma’s eyes at an alarming rate. They stare at him a while longer, then push past him and Kaito and run into another room.

A glass clatters to the ground, shattering instantly on the tile. Angie looks down at the remains of Kaito’s vodka - or water, he can’t tell - and mumbles, “Oh…”

Saihara croaks, “I thought you said… that they requested me specifically.”

Amami crosses his arms tight, “I lied. They… They said they didn’t want you, but Angie _insisted_ that we try anyways. That's why we called so early. Didn't want them to find out.”

Kirumi and Shinguuji look as if they want to disappear right now, as they hastily avoid making eye contact with any of them. Saihara shares the sentiment.

“I should, I should go-” Saihara gets out, “Have fun, Momota. If the buses aren't running when the party ends, I’ll call Akamatsu.”

Kaito looks completely dumbfounded, but nods anyways.

Angie cries, “No, don't leave! Angie… Angie wants you to talk to them. Please?”

“Ouma doesn't want me here,” Saihara responds, “So… So I shouldn't bother them any more than I already have.”

Amami asks, “Please? It'd mean the world if you spoke to them. C’mon, we already dragged you out this far.”

Saihara looks to Kirumi and Shinguuji for help, but they both seem to be very interested in the wood grain of the floor.

Saihara heaves a sigh, “F-Fine. But if this goes wrong, I’ll… I’ll… do something.”

Amami smiles warmly, “They're probably in their room. First door on the left once you're in the hall.”

Saihara nods weakly, then turns around. He reaches the door that Amami specified, and reaches up with his fist to knock, then pauses. His stomach lurches.

He knocks.

The door open only a crack, and a single red eye peers out. There's a long period of judgement, then, “Go away.”

“I want to t-”

“I told you to go away,” Ouma says, their voice quivering.

There's a long silence. Ouma doesn't close the door, but it doesn't get any wider either. In the background, Saihara can hear Angie herding everyone outside.

“W-Why are you still here?” Ouma asks, “I… Go home, Saihara-kun.”

Saihara tugs on the sleeves of his shirt, “I don't want to lose you again. It's already happened twice, and… I’d never be able to forgive myself if I lost you for good.”

He's pouring his soul out. The painful truth that he'd kept inside for years is spilling out of his mouth and onto the gritty linoleum.

Ouma whispers, “Y… You've gotten better at lying s-since we last met.”

“I'm not lying,” Saihara's voice is hardly above a whisper, “And I think you know that better than I do.”

The door opens wide, and for a moment, Saihara stands there and takes in Ouma’s wide, deer in the headlights stare, takes in all their raw vulnerability, and fear.

“Are y-you just going to stand there?” Ouma asks, tilting their head a tad.

Saihara mumbles an apology and steps into the room. Ouma closes the door, isolating the two of them from the rest of the house.

They sit on opposite sides of the small room, staring at each other. There's so much to say, and nowhere near enough time to say it. Saihara doesn't have a clue how he'd vocalize a large portion of his thoughts.

Ouma breaks the silence first, “Thanks for chasing after me. I… I shouldn't run again.”

“It's not your fault,” Saihara insists.

Ouma mumbles, “You're not a detective chasing a dashing phantom thief. You shouldn't have had to run after me in the first place.”

It's partially true- they're not caricatures of life anymore, they're two broken souls looking for pieces of themselves that never existed in the first place.

Saihara scoots across the floor over to Ouma, and reaches for their hand. They don't pull away, and in fact, relax into the warmth.

“I missed you,” Saihara says.

“I… missed you too,” Ouma admits, “Can… Can we stay like this a little longer, S-Saihara-chan?”

The old honorific sounds like honey against a pool of bitter tea.

“Of course we can,” Saihara replies, “As long as you'd like. I won't leave you alone again. That's a promise.”

The two of them remain in Ouma’s room, hand in hand, until the time comes that they can face the others, together.

They don't have to be alone anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the closest to a Saihara birthday fic that i'll probably get so fdhgjhj


End file.
